


The Spice of Life

by xenocuriosa



Category: Humans Are Space Orcs (Meme), Undisclosed Fandom
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Culture Shock, Developing Friendships, Epistolary, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28142955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenocuriosa/pseuds/xenocuriosa
Summary: maLonsian Landaris wasn't pleased about her transfer to a Terran ship, but the more she learns about this strange species, the more interesting they get.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 100
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	The Spice of Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Puffinmuffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puffinmuffin/gifts).



> This was _so_ fun to write. I hope you enjoy this, Puffinmuffin! Happy Yuletide!
> 
> (And thanks to the usual suspects for the beta!)

"You know," Landaris said, pacing in front of the great tank lining the bulkhead of the galley, "I think it's actually a little bigoted to make the Zazican the only Union representatives in the Terran fleet. We aren't the only mammals in the Union. We aren't even the only ones who can breathe in their atmosphere! I think we've been unfairly pigeonholed as diplomats since we helped with integrating the Vinumians and the Bithobil into the Union."

A jet of bubbles streamed from one of the blowholes of the being in the tank, one huge eye rotating slowly in a cone-shaped cephalopodic head. Landaris stopped pacing and glared, her hackles rising, her vestigal tail held straight out in annoyance.

"You only think it's funny because you don't have to live with them," she accused, her ears flicking back.

Quuluu, whose real name consisted of a flutter of chromatophores on her skin and a slow whistle from the blowhole at the end of xir headstalk, exhaled bubbles again. This was the Uuu version of a laugh, and although Landaris had been friends with Quuluu for years, she still couldn't tell if the laugh was amused or not.

Colors began to flash across Quuluu's skin. Most of them blurred together to Landaris' eyes, wavelengths outside her perception of the electromagnetic spectrum. She waited patiently while the Exegeter wired into her brain received input from the same device in Quuluu's central ganglion. That was the funny thing about working in a multicultural environment, she reflected. Everyone got used to long silences while the Exegeters hummed away in their skulls, brainstems, and other related organs.

Finally, the Exegeter started to rattle the delicate bones of her inner ear, and repeated Quuluu's words to her in Landaris' own language.

"Worried maybe you about rumors Terran, yes?"

Landaris parsed the Exegeter's wonky grammar easily. Her ears pressed even flatter to her skull. She grunted and said, "I wouldn't say I'm worried. I'm just…hesitant. You'd think they would send someone more experienced on this mission."

Quuluu's tentacles waved quickly back and forth. That was definitely amusement. Xe swayed in the liquid of the tank until xe was facing Landaris with one luminescent eye.

"Have a mind flexible," xe said. The translator gave it a cheerful intonation. "Is a grand adventure!"

Landaris sighed, then squatted down beside the tank. She gave the tank's window a little scratch, since Quuluu wouldn't appreciate the touch, even if Landaris had access to the tank, which she didn't—she wasn't a microclimatologist, just a run-of-the-mill astronavigator.

"Maybe," she conceded, and leaned her forehead against the tank. "But I'm going to complain to you the entire time."

Quuluu rolled one great eye. Landaris didn't need a translation for _that_.

* * *

_Excerpt of a transmission from Lieutenant maLonsian Landaris of the Sol System Starship_ _Wang Zhenyi to Chief Engineer Quuluu on the Union Craft_ Qedpul's Exaltation _, Union Galactic Standard date 55Fe+4156.66._

"I've been on the _Wang Zhenyi_ for a tenday now, and you're right; Terrans aren't that bad. That is, they are definitely weird, but they're so…friendly. I half-expected one of them to offer to groom me—they touch each other all the time, even outside their family groups. A hand on someone else's arm, to get their attention, I think, and I saw an ensign ruffle another ensign's hair! On duty! I know, I know. It doesn't mean the same thing to them as it does to us. But—how strange to see them touching each other so casually! My whiskers itch just thinking about it.

One of the other astronavigators is a man. He said to call him Jeetendra, but the others refer to him as Lieutenant Chattopadhyay. I think that's his family name, and Jeetendra is his self-name, and oh, this is strange, you'll like it—Terrans don't pick out their own self-names, usually. I wonder how they can be sure their self-name will suit them? I'll have to ask Jeetendra.

They've been very careful about my food. Ambassador Rowatil—the Zazicun ambassador to the Sol system, remember her? I think you met at the award ceremony on Califan E, a few years ago—anyway, the Ambassador was kind enough to ship some Zazicun spices to the _Wang Zhenyi_ 's culinary specialist. They don't understand the finer points of meat preparation, but they're trying. And having that reminder of home is nice. I'm hardly ever there so you wouldn't think it would matter—but it does.

Although I did try some meat sauce from Terra, from Jeetendra's region—it nearly burned my tongue off! Terrans eat capsaicinoids for _fun_. I pointed out to Jeetendra that spiciness means mammals are not to eat the berries. It's a defense mechanism. He said, and I quote: 'No pain, no gain!' I like him, but I don't understand him.

Anyway, how are the repairs on the _Exaltation_ 's filtration systems going? You said you couldn't get the parts out of the Bianerth Belt , last I heard…"

* * *

_Excerpt of a transmission from Lieutenant maLonsian Landaris of the Sol System Starship_ Wang Zhenyi _to Chief Engineer Quuluu on the Union Craft_ Qedpul's Exaltation _, Union Galactic Standard date 55Fe+4156.91._

"…rhodium prices are absolutely _meshuggah_ in that sector—I think that's the right word—I just learned it today. Demand is high but there are not enough asteroids. The Terrans had better get their economy under control before full Union integration. I don't see how their market system will work with ours. But I'm just an astronavigator, not an economist. I'll leave that to the experts.

Oh, but speaking of rare metals—well, in a way—you'll understand in a moment—I met someone, Ikká Boidni, they work in hydroponics, who has two platinum posts in each earlobe. Terrans don't use their ears all that much, you know, not like us Zazican, so it doesn't interfere with their hearing. But when I asked about them, Ikká told me Terrans get all kinds of piercings, no ritual or social meaning attached. And later, they showed me their tattoo. It's a repeating pattern like piscine scales along their spine, made with real ink and needles. All that pain because it looks good!

They said the same effect could be achieved with lasers, but they preferred to do it "the old-fashioned way." I wondered if Terran neurochemistry is that much different from ours, but when I researched it, their response to pain is like most other mammals'. But they willingly tattoo and pierce themselves for the sake of beauty—Ikká says the "endorphin rush" is part of the experience.

I have to admit, their tattoo is beautiful, and so are their platinum studs. It makes me wish my ears were as useless as theirs, so I could get some, too. What a vulnerability in a fight, though! I can't imagine how much it would hurt if someone tore them out. And Terrans are even more volatile than Zazican—yes, I admit it, we can be a little…gregarious. Don't rub it in—my point is that Terrans are more likely to get into a clawfight than any Zazican, so they're taking quite a risk. But the flesh modifications do look wonderful."

* * *

_Excerpt of a transmission from Lieutenant maLonsian Landaris of the Sol System Starship_ Wang Zhenyi _to Chief Engineer Quuluu on the Union Craft_ Qedpul's Exaltation _, Union Galactic Standard date 55Fe+4157.01._

"Today I learned that many Terrans willingly limit their diets to plants, forgoing any animal parts whatsoever! I know they're omnivores, but still. What a waste of cuspids."

* * *

_Contents of a viz-view converted to a polarized holo-g, sent from Lieutenant maLonsian Landaris of the Sol System Starship_ _Wang Zhenyi to Chief Engineer Quuluu on the Union Craft_ Qedpul's Exaltation _, Union Galactic Standard date 55Fe+4157.27._

The viz-recorder is embedded in the long wall of Theta Deck Sector 9. Its ultra-wide panoramic view shows a large gymnasium. Most of the gym equipment is folded into the bulkheads, leaving only a long track and four sets of starting blocks at its beginning. It is the end of third shift on the SSS _Wang Zhenyi_ and most of the ship's crew are asleep, but three Terrans, as well as Lieutenant maLonsian Landaris, are very much awake.

The three Terrans' uniforms have been shoved into lockers, rumpled from their eight-hour shift. Now, all of them— including Lieutenant Jeetendra Chattopadhyay—are dressed in close-fitting, aerodynamic exercise clothes, warming up their muscles with stretches, chatting indistinctly among themselves and to maLonsian Landaris. In deference to Terran sensibilities, Landaris is wearing a pair of exercise shorts herself, with a reinforced cutout for her tail, which is pointing straight out with excitement. The shorts, tighter than her uniform, are a little uncomfortable against her fur, rubbing it against the grain, but she's grown used to it.

The group of four meanders over to the starting blocks. Jeetendra points to the far-left pair and speaks to Landaris. Her laughter is the sort of snarl to trigger a primate's fight-or-flight instinct, but the Terrans have grown used to her, too.

"I don't need them," she says, loud enough for the viz-recorder to pick up, and pads over to the starting blocks to press a button hidden in the right block; the blocks fold into the floor like the rest of the gym equipment. Landaris assumes a starting stance and shakes out her mane. The claws on her feet flex, piercing the mat of the track lightly before receding. She cocks her head to Jeetendra and her other friends in challenge.

"Ready?" asks the ship's AI.

"She's going to kick our collective ass," says a red-haired woman to Jeetendra, mournfully, even as she braces herself on her set of starting blocks.

"Set," says the AI. Everyone tenses.

"Go!"

No one aboard the _Wang Zhenyi_ is remotely out of shape, especially not these four. Two of these Terrans have set Sol system-wide records in this particular race before. But Landaris is descended from ambush predators, born to sprint and kill, and she bounds down the track faster than any Terran could run, leaving gouges in the self-healing mat at the starting point before she tucks in her claws. By the times the Terrans make it to the end, she is lounging against the bulkhead, examining her fingers like a Terran checking out a manicure.

"Took you long enough," she purrs, baring her fangs in a smirk.

Jeetendra grins at her and says, "We're gonna do suicide drills next time—see how you do then!"

"A suicide drill?" Landaris asks, visibly taken aback. She taps the side of her head as if the Exegeter might be stuck in her brain. "What is that?"

"It's what we just did, basically," chimes in the third Terran, Ikká. "Except more."

Landaris is skeptical, and she is right to be. Within fifteen minutes, she is panting, though she keeps going, propelled by pure stubbornness, until the Terrans take pity on her and call it off.

"I'm still faster," she announces, grabbing her clay powder from her duffel and dusting it over her fur, absorbing the grime.

"Whatever makes you sleep at night, Landaris."

_Excerpt of a transmission from Lieutenant maLonsian Landaris of the Sol System Starship_ Wang Zhenyi _to Chief Engineer Quuluu on the Union Craft_ Qedpul's Exaltation, _Union Galactic Standard date 55Fe+4157.28._

"You know, sometimes I forget what Terrans are at their core—hunters, who spent millions of years tracking down their prey, relentlessly, over kilometers of rough terrain, until it was too feeble to resist. I think about that, sometimes. Those merciless primates from so long ago, hunting me, jabbing me with spears and shooting me with arrows while I try to run to my pride. I could take on a few Terrans if I had to, but a group of them? An _armed_ group? No. They'd run me to ground.

Seven Spires, I'm getting maudlin. I need to go to sleep. Hopefully no Terrans kill me in the night. It's a good thing we're all friends."

* * *

_Excerpt of a transmission from Lieutenant maLonsian Landaris of the Sol System Starship_ Wang Zhenyi _to Chief Engineer Quuluu on the Union Craft_ Qedpul's Exaltation _, Union Galactic Standard date 55Fe+4157.50._

"I think I told you in my last message that third shift has shore leave for the next week, yes? Well, if I didn't, third shift has shore leave for the next week. We docked at a habitat on a moon in the Sol system, Europa—I'll send you viz-views of the subsurface ocean and penitentes on the ice.

We went to a pub in the entertainment district—well, several pubs. Too many pubs. I was very drunk, but so was everyone else. And they all wanted to know about my love life, so I told them about Naliett and the kits, which led to so many other questions about mateship—I wasn't sure why, since Terrans pair-bond too—but Ikká and Sandrine explained a bit about Terran courtship and mateship. They are very enthusiastic about sex, most of them, at any rate. The plots of their holo-gs make a lot more sense now. It seems damned inconvenient to have one's libido just…activate everywhere. Managing a heat cycle is much easier.

Ah, yes, I wanted to tell you about Terran beer. They use an herb called hops—I'll send you an overview of its chemical composition as well—and it's deliciously bitter. Very different from Zazicun ale! […]"

* * *

_Excerpt of a transmission from Lieutenant maLonsian Landaris of the Sol System Starship_ Wang Zhenyi _to Chief Engineer Quuluu on the Union Craft_ Qedpul's Exaltation _, Union Galactic Standard date 55Fe+4157.91._

"I've sent you a Terran game along with this message. I hope someone on the Exaltation can encode it properly for you—you'll like it. But if not, maybe Commander Wringinga can help you play so you can hear the story. The immersion tech should work with Bithobil senses, although I don't know how it would incorporate her wings…

I know you'd rather experience the game for yourself, so I won't go into detail, but I admit the plot was nothing like I expected. Terrans are so… _playful_. They joke and they play pranks upon each other, and they prize wit so highly—I didn't expect them to be able to delve so deeply into the darker side of the sapient soul. 

It's been centuries since their last real war—of course you know that; we never would have contacted them otherwise—but while I played that game, it felt like no time at all had passed, like Terrans were still savages and hadn't yet reached an enlightened civilization. War games, war crimes, brutality and cruelty, alongside passion and love and loyalty—it was frightening, really, how easily that game sank its teeth into me. It's the most popular game among Terrans right now, and during that first playthrough, I didn't understand why. Tragic tales are one thing, but this was so visceral—why would someone want to experience that?

And yet…when I reached my end goal, there was a—release, catharsis. It felt like muscle aches after a tough workout, but for my limbic system. Not something I would do too frequently, but I understand the appeal.

When I finished, I curled up and whimpered. I think I frightened Sandrine; she thought I would cry like a Terran, but that's just not how our nasolacrimal system works. I let her groom me until I was less upset. Terran nails are weak and dull, but so soothing on the scalp.

I don't think she realizes the—the _intimacy_ of it. Terrans are so casual about touch. I don't want to assume friendship based on a mistake. Do you think I should tell her?

You're going to say yes, I'm sure of it. You're infuriating when you're right."

* * *

Landaris walked the corridors of _Qedpul's Exaltation_ , her strides long and sure; she knew this ship like the stripes on her coat. Behind her trailed a handful of Terrans: Jeetendra, long-distance runner, terrible flirt, and her first friend on the _Wang Zhenyi_ ; Ikká, who had taught Landaris Terran dances and learned to play the Zazicun pyrophone; shy Sandrine, from the Sol system's far-flung mining communities, Landaris' closest confidante. They clumped together, unused to seeing such a variety of species aboard one ship. Uuu in the tanks lining the bulkheads, slicing through crisp liquid, Bithobil in climate domes zooming over the floor, reptilian Sasasa and ursine Khen'ain sharing a lift. And Zazican, of course. Landaris luxuriated in the pleasure of the rolling consonants on her tongue, speaking her own language to her people without waiting for the Exegeter to translate.

Landaris cocked her ears and heard Sandrine whispering to the other Terrans, "Look how they've adapted the ship to so many microclimates! This is amazing!"

"It really is," Jeetendra whispered back, and then, louder. "Landaris is such a good friend. It was totally worth beating her in all those suicide drills, right?"

Landaris arched her neck in amusement, forgetting for a moment the Terran convention of laughter. Ikká jogged a few steps to catch up with Landaris.

"Thanks again," they said, always more serious than the others. "None of us could've been cleared for this visit without you."

"It's no problem," Landaris said, and touched Ikká lightly on the shoulder, still a little hesitant with such blatant physical affection. "I have someone I want you to meet—xir quarters are right here, actually."

She stopped in her tracks, the Terrans piling behind her like a minor traffic collision, and touched the button in the wall that would send vibrations through Quuluu's liquid, alerting xem to visitors.

The door slid open immediately, admitting Landaris and the Terrans to the narrow room where Quuluu's air-breathing companions could sit, stand, or lean as they desired. In xir tank, Quuluu was shimmering with color, xir tentacles beckoning.

"Welcome!" xe said, and Landaris was certain the Exegeter wasn't applying false enthusiasm to the translation.

Immediately, Landaris went up to the tank, placing her hand upon the clear material. She flexed her claws just enough to tap on the tank in greeting. Quuluu blew some bubbles in her direction and pressed xir primary tentacle to her hand, only a thin sheet of material and millennia of divergent evolution separating them.

Landaris stepped back and glanced over her shoulder at the Terrans. They were watching her and Quuluu with frank amazement. Landaris smiled at them.

"Everyone," she said, and gestured to the being in the tank, "this is Quuluu. Xe was my sponsor in the Institute. And Quuluu--"

Landaris looked from Quuluu at the Terrans, who looked back encouragingly, curiously. Her mane lifted in pleasure.

She finished, feeling the sharp prick of happiness in her heart, "—these are my friends."


End file.
